


The Ben Franklin Effect

by MissSanguineOus



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Haytham A++ parenting, alternative version of the fight at Fort George, and being very confused about why he did so, because I always liked the idea of Haytham saving Connor's life, me? caring about my son? it's more likely than you think!, the two morons get one more chance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 09:27:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16282016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissSanguineOus/pseuds/MissSanguineOus
Summary: My son was now lying on his back, motionless, several feet away from me.An unexpected cold shudder went through my body.Was this supposed to be the end of the big, tough, silly Assassin? Was my son killed by a cannonball meant for anyone but him as he was seconds away from, maybe, accomplishing his mission? That didn't seem right.





	The Ben Franklin Effect

_BOOM!_

The explosion threw us both off our feet and against the wall and I cried in pain as I hit the stone and fell on the floor.

For a few seconds I saw and heard nothing, the smoke and dust obscuring my vision and the dull ringing filling my ears. I laid on the ground for some time, breathing slowly and trying to figure out whether my body was still in one piece.

_I am conscious, so it cannot be that bad,_ I thought.

Being conscious, however, I could feel my entire body ache. A strong, throbbing pain was thumping at the back of my head and every breath I tried to take hurt like Hell.

I knew I should get up. But I felt that if I tried to, I would surely fall down or pass out. However I couldn't stay here for much longer. I still saw nothing, but I guessed that there is a giant hole where the opposite wall used to be and every next broadside can be the last I hear before some lucky cannonball ends me.

Unsurely, I tried to lift myself up. As it turned out, it was easier said than done, but eventually, supporting myself against the wall, I was standing more or less upright and by that time I could already make out the state of my surroundings.

As I could guess, within the thirty feet radius, what used to be the walls, roofing and floor of the fort was now a pile of rubble.

In front of me, where the outer wall was a few minutes ago, I could see the flashes of explosions. The bombardment continued.

I took one step forward in the direction I hoped was safer than where I was now, but then I froze.

There was one more thing.

Connor.

I almost forgot what the volley that swept us off our feet interrupted. Which was us trying to kill each other. Me trying to kill my son.

My son, who, as I realized after a couple of seconds, was now lying on his back, motionless, several feet away from me.

An unexpected cold shudder went through my body.

Was this supposed to be the end of the big, tough, silly Assassin? Was my son killed by a cannonball meant for anyone but him as he was seconds away from, maybe, accomplishing his mission? That didn't seem right.

Slowly, I walked closer to the Assassin and kneeled next to him. I took out my knife and put its side in front of Connor's mouth.

After a couple of seconds, condensated steam appeared on the cold steel. The boy was alive.

I stood up, once again moaning in pain and turned around from the unconscious Assassin, about to be on my way to safety. I took the first step.

I couldn't take the second one.

Can I just leave him here?

There was a chance he would be crushed by a volley or the collapsing walls and that was something I should be looking forward to. Connor being killed was...well, all I was trying to accomplish for the few minutes before the explosion. Leaving him where he was seemed reasonable.

I took the second step.

But... if I want him dead, shouldn't I just slit his throat while I can and he doesn't put up a fight? This was the only way to make sure he won't be pestering me anymore.

I took a step back.

However... slitting his throat as he's unconscious did seem  _slightly_ dishonourable.

_Old fool,_ I thought,  _he'd kill you without hesitation. He tried to kill you less than ten minutes ago and was quite close to succeeding too._

He did, did he not? But that was a fair fight. One that each of us, I'm certain, would be happy to die in. Killing my enemy, my once-ally, my son, when he doesn't even know what's going on around him did not seem that proper.

Then again, if I don't take the opportunity to end his life right now, I would be risking not only mine, not only Charles's safety, should Connor come out of it alive, but also the existence of what's left of the Colonial Rite. I had responsibilities and right now, my responsibility was to kill the boy.

I took another step back and readied my blade.

Quick, clean, he won't even notice.

_God, he's just a child_ , I thought, looking at his face. My face, Ziio's face. I used to spend hours staring at her face when I woke up before her. The same peaceful expression that softened her sharp features could be seen on our son's face now and he reminded me of her stronger than ever before.

I hid the blade and turned away from him.

_That's for the best_ , I thought. Leave him be, hope that the French cannonballs will finish the job. If they don't, well, sooner or later Connor will come to me for a rematch and I can kill him with a clear conscience.

French cannonballs? Leaving the job to the  _French_ cannonballs?  _If you want him dead, kill him yourself. If not... then what?_

I  _wanted_ him dead.

Then why couldn't I force myself to kill him?

One quick stab.

But not like this!

_This is ridiculous,_ I thought, irritated. I was standing there, frozen, unable to make a simple and obvious choice.

I had every right to kill him, had I not? To avenge my colleagues. To protect the Order. To ensure that the boy won't stand in my way again. Did I give him the chance to understand why I was right and he was wrong? Yes. Have I already compromised the Order in favour of the boy? Yes.

Then why was I still hesitating?

I should just leave him here. One last favour.

Step forward.

I looked behind my back. Connor still wasn't moving.

_The place is falling apart. One more volley and were doomed._

The glorious end of the gullible Assassin and the foolish Templar. One died unconscious, the other indecisive.

I had to face it: I wanted to spare his life.

Why?

Senile dementia, probably.

Maybe I wanted to give him a chance, one last time. For Ziio. For what could have been. For my father, who would jump into flames to save me, without a second thought.

“Bollocks” I muttered.

I couldn't just leave him here. He was a worthy adversary. An honourable man and probably a much better person than I was. He was my blood. He didn't deserve to die in this foolish war. And if I lacked the strength to kill him, I couldn't just let his fate be decided by a fortuity.

I walked back to Connor. Grunting, I kneeled by his side.

“Son” I said, shaking his shoulder “Wake up”

No response.

“Connor!” I called once more.

The boy let out a silent moan of pain. He opened his eyes and blinked a couple of times, though I doubt he was aware of what's going on around him.

I heard a not too distant rumble as the cannonballs reached the fort buildings once more, reminding me that the time wasn't in our favour.

“Ah, damn it” I said, putting my arm under Connor's back.

I rose up, gritting my teeth as the pain in my back exploded with doubled strength.

I could see that Connor was slowly regaining consciousness, but most of his considerable body weight was still resting on me.

Step by step, painfully slowly and painfully in general, I dragged the Assassin to the nearest stairwell, leading into the fort's inner buildings.

_Well,_ I thought,  _maybe at least this will make him think twice about killing me next time._

That is, he probably will have to try again, eventually, but the awareness that he owes me something won't be much of a comfort to him and, who knows, maybe even make his life slightly more difficult.

Connor muttered something.

“Hang on son, we're almost there” I said, doing my best not to fall down the stairs. Every step hurt and if I miraculously had nothing broken or crushed before, then I surely had now.

“Um... what... what?” Connor mumbled, trying to lift his head.

“If you could please try to walk on your own, it would be great help”

“Father..? Wait... we were... fighting...”

“Yes, yes, we can get back to that later, if you want” I said.

We reached the inner courtyard of the fort, usually filled with soldiers and arms, but now empty. However, it was also surprisingly undamaged by the bombardment.

I rested Connor against one of the walls and helped him sit.

“Your friends will probably be here soon” I said, getting up “Until we meet again, son”

Having said that, I hobbled away, clutching my ribs. Yup, something was definitely broken.

I glanced back at Connor.

It was more than likely that soon I will regret my irrational generosity. Every cell of my brain screamed that it was a wrong choice. How can I explain what I did? I had owed Connor nothing. I didn't even...  _like_ him. I should want him dead. No, I  _wanted_ him dead. I knew that neither of us could live if the other survived.

Then why did I feel like it was the right thing to do? Why was I content that the boy was alive?

I have no reasonable explanation for this.

For the first time in forever, I do not have a reasonable explanation.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> So, the vision of this scene has been in my mind for quite some time. I actually wrote a version of it in chapter 14 of "Her eyes still watch over us" but this is more of an original. Or, at least, what would have been an original, had it not been posted a year leter then the other version. This is a late prototype or something.


End file.
